


tell me, what are we to do?

by ggwynbleidd



Series: Dethentine's [7]
Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Bad Cooking, Dethentine's, Gift Fic, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29424726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggwynbleidd/pseuds/ggwynbleidd
Summary: Magnus is bitter about Valentine's Day. And is never going to participate in it ever again. Ever. For real. Trust him. Even with the gift that he has planned for Charles.For the Dethentine's prompt "Will You Be My Valentine?"
Relationships: Magnus Hammersmith/Charles Foster Offdensen
Series: Dethentine's [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152359
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	tell me, what are we to do?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [metalitaph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalitaph/gifts).



It had started in elementary school. Childish bullshit that still itched at Magnus’ brain when he tried to fall asleep at night and his brain dredged up every miserable moment of his life. A little box on the front of his desk. Candy and cards handed out to others, none for him. Nothing from...God, what was her name? Minnie Greene. Or Brown? It was a color. And she had ignored him the rest of the school year - the weird little message he had written special on her card was to thank for that. But, he was eight. Was he supposed to be some Don Juan at eight?

Awkward eight-year-old Magnus blossomed into an even more awkward fourteen-year-old Magnus. Eight-year-old Magnus had been awkward, and didn’t know when to shut up, and couldn’t stay still in class, and had parents that talked funny. Fourteen-year-old Magnus had that and more. An attitude problem, long hair, rock ‘n’ roll and a face full of acne that still scarred the cheeks of thirty-four-year-old Magnus. So Katie Bowers was unimpressed by the little bouquet of flowers that he presented to her in the hallways of school. Her boyfriend had been even more unimpressed than she was and Magnus had come home from school that day with a black eye.

So, Valentine’s Day was a corporate, soulless holiday that had no meaning to it. That was what Magnus decided after that disaster. Even when, the next year, the sight of Kurt (he couldn’t even remember his last name, but God, he had loved Kurt...or some approximation of love that a loner nerd could feel for his school’s star quarterback who never even looked at him) with an armful of trinkets from female admirers hurt. That hurt a lot, for a few reasons. So Magnus totally gave up on Valentine’s Day. Fuck it. It was stupid. Magnus didn’t, like, _care_.

Then there was when he was seventeen. His girlfriend, his first girlfriend ever, broke up with him the day before Valentine’s day. Girlfriends and boyfriends alike never paid the day much mind throughout the years, or just got freaked out by gifts that he gave them. They were too much or too little or not enough or too handmade or too expensive or this...or that...everything he chose to do or buy was wrong. So he stopped. He gave up on it entirely. Maybe there would be a special person he could bend over backwards for, but it would take a special, _special_ person that could make Magnus again.

Which was why Magnus was now thirty-four and meticulously trying to figure out how to secretly frost a cupcake in his bedroom. His tongue was held between his lips, premade frosting was smeared across his cheek somehow, his eyes pinched shut in concentration. It was a singular cupcake thanks to his bastard roommates. They had decided that if Magnus was baking, of course he was baking edibles. And of course, if he was making edibles, it was edibles for them to take a part in, too.

So he sat, and got frosting on his sheets before drawing back and looking at his handiwork. It was ugly. His bedroom was a mess. The kitchen was a mess. He was pretty sure that the cupcake was burned or raw in the middle or something was wrong and he decided, then and there, that Charles was going to laugh at him. So, he prepared for that gesture to get shot down like a bird in the air. Magnus would be done with Valentine’s Day, like, for real this time, after all of that.

“Where you headed out to?” Murderface asked from the sofa. It was almost accusatory and Magnus drew back at the kid talking to him like that in the first place. The TV was loud and blasting some war documentary and Murderface seemed to have already made himself a nest out of discounted candy wrappers.

“Out,” Magnus replied as he clutched the box that was too large for a single cupcake to his chest with a sudden possessiveness. “What, you my fuckin’ mom?”

“No, I just...I just thought…” Murderface took a swig of his beer as if that could cover the way his face was turning red. “I thought that since Nathan was with his girlfriend, and Pickles was bar hopping, and Skwisgaar was at that retirement home volunteering or whatever...we could...hang out?”

“Later, man,” Magnus raised the box and shook it, which was an immediate mistake as he felt the single cupcake slide a bit.

"You got a date?" Murderface's face grew slack in surprise.

Yes?

"No," he shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Just dropping some...some weed off, for a friend, y'know?"

"Ohhh. I was about to say. I figured we could pal around as singletons today!" Murderface's face lit up. "I figured you weren't gonna have anyone today, you always gripe about how it's bullshit and everything."

"Valentine's Day is a scam, yeah, but weed is all year round," the door to the apartment opened with a click and Magnus waved. "Later, man."

So, that was more awkward and insulting than Magnus expected. Because, sure, it made sense that Murderface was going to be by himself today. But for him of all people to assume that Magnus was going to be single and without plans too...even if he was...kinda-sorta. It was complicated. Too complicated to think about today. It was a detail that he didn’t even want to get into. So, he got in his van and set the box in the passenger’s seat before setting off.

Should Magnus have gotten flowers, instead? Nice roses? Or perhaps a card, a high-quality watch? Something that Charles would actually like, instead of something so stupid that Magnus couldn’t even do right. Did Charles even like sugar and sweets this much?

He was already stressing about everything. Already resigned to another year of mockery and rejection. The knowledge that Charles was going to laugh in his face and call him stupid like everyone else had. He sat and feared that emotional swell and burst after any rejection as he drove. It was...fine. He had adjusted. Charles hadn’t done anything like that before but today was just such a bad fucking omen for Magnus.

So, he expected it.

The drive to the office was always an easy one. It was like a second nature to him at this point - a few years of going there with the band, about a year or so of him going by himself from time to time. He should have picked up lunch for them to share. Soften the blow of this single, ugly, stupid fucking cupcake. Or _something_. This was preemptively embarrassing. Magnus finally parked and sat in the van, letting it idle as he thought. He could just turn around and leave. Not even come up into Charles’ office. Or come back with lunch, or a better gift, maybe both. Hell, he could get in touch with his dealer and actually throw around some weed until he had enough money to buy Charles something decent. He deserved the best if Magnus was to give him a gift at all.

Magnus finally cut the engine and took in a deep, trembling breath, rubbed the eyes with the hells of his palms and tried to collect himself. He was jittery and nervous. No popping of his fingers and shaking of his hands or jiggling of his leg could get the energy out of him. He finally crawled out of the van and slunk into the office building, up the elevator to the floor of Charles’ office and past his secretary before she could stop him.

“Magnus?” Charles looked up from paperwork strewn across his desk and adjusted his glasses. He reached for a cup of coffee previously placed near a pile of folders. “How are you doing?”

“I-I’m good,” Magnus’ voice wavered for a moment. It felt like he was being strangled. “What’s up with you?”

“I’m fine. Is something the matter? Or are you just stopping by?” Charles’ face softened as he spoke.

Did Charles like these surprise visits?

“I like when you stop by, you know,” okay, so apparently he did. Magnus felt his heart skip at the verbal confirmation and he wanted to kick himself for the stupidity of it all. “Makes my day better. I’ve been driving myself _crazy_ with all of this paperwork that the label keeps throwing at me. Expectations for album release dates and tours and...ah, you don’t need to know all of this just yet! But they do want an EP soon and are willing to help us get some studio time?”

"Oh, that-that's awesome, man!" Magnus sat down and peered at the papers. It was full of legal jargon that all pooled and melted together into a mess of words, he saw his name a few times, and that was really all of what he understood out of the lettering that he glimpsed at. Charles gathered them in a neater pile and set them aside.

"What's that?" he asked suddenly.

Right.

The box.

The box with the cupcake.

The box with the cupcake for Charles.

"It's...it's for you," Magnus felt his face grow hot as he set it on the desk. Hands free, he began to twirl his beard in his fingers nervously, tugging at it as Charles examined it.

Charles' eyebrows rose and he adjusted his glasses again before opening it. And when he opened the box, Magnus' heart sank into his boots. The ugly cupcake, probably undercooked or overcooked or both, with its running red frosting that had a fingerprint from Magnus on it stared back up at Charles expectantly. Like it was saying "Look at me, a complete dumbass made me!" as loudly as it could without Magnus having written on the damn thing.

"Did you make this?" Charles asked softly.

"Y-yeah. The guys...the guys ate the others, it was gonna be...a dozen...but I...they're stupid," Magnus tugged at his beard again and stared out the window, avoiding eye contact.

Oh, he was stupid, all of this was so fucking stupid. This was so juvenile. He was a grown man fretting over this shit for no reason. But he braced himself for laughter and heard-

"Thank you, Magnus," Charles said with a smile on his face, craning his neck so that he could get into Magnus' field of vision. "It looks lovely."

It did not. Even if Magnus was nicer to himself, it really, _really_ did not look nice.

"I'm sorry the other guys ate the others. Thought they were, uh, magic, y'know?" he coughed out a laugh.

"Did you have one?" asked Charles as he reached for something on his desk. A little lunch bag, with his name written on it like a schoolboy, as if he was going to lose it anywhere else. Magnus shook his head in response to his question. "I can fix that."

Magnus cocked his head to the side in confusion as Charles unzipped the bag and took out a little bag with a knife, a fork and a spoon. Knife in hand, Charles cut the cupcake in half and Magnus watched as one half was extended out to him in a napkin.

"You should always eat what you cook!" Charles laughed. And it was the sweetest, least mocking laugh Magnus had ever had directed at him.

Cupcake in hand, Magnus bit into it. It wasn't burnt, or raw. Just right. The icing was okay, too, suddenly not that ugly as Magnus chewed it contemplatively. The frosting tasted a bit too much like food dye, but it was pre-made and heavy on the dye. Yet...the cupcake itself was fine.

"You remembered me talking about liking orange and chocolate together?" Charles peered up at him over his glasses, hiding his chewing behind his hand. "It's...it's nice, Magus. Thank you."

"Welcome. It's no big deal," Magnus replied as if he hadn’t been considering throwing it and himself off of a bridge if it wasn't to Charles' standards. But in a cartoonish kind of way, not a seriously sad way.

Charles smiled and reached for something in his desk drawer again. A box of his own, smaller, and velvet.

"It makes me feel better that you, uh, you came down to say hi. And had a little gift," he explained as he held it out. "Makes me feel less awkward for this."

Magnus licked his fingers clean and took the box in his hands, inspecting it for a second. It was lightweight and unassuming. He cracked it open slowly, his mouth falling open in surprise.

A ring stared back up at him. Silver, an open-mouthed skull with a snake wrapping through its jaws. On the top of the lid was a small piece of paper, a little note.

_Mag,_

_It's been so lovely, getting to know you over the past year. I have had so much fun with you and I'm glad that I got to know you better. It's one of the best decisions I've made._

_(Let me know if it doesn't fit, I can exchange it for a different size!)_

_Happy Valentine's Day,  
Charlie._

"It matches your belt buckle, sort of," Charles' voice sounded almost distant as Magnus stared at it.

"It's...it's..." Magnus stammered, slipping it on a few fingers experimentally before settling on the middle finger of his right hand. It fit perfectly. "It's...I...wow, this is really..."

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Nobody's really gotten me...I..." he looked up at Charles' face - expectant and nervous - and smiled. "Thanks, man."

"Oh, don't cry!" Charles exclaimed with a little laugh, face bright and smiling as he stood and circled the desk. He reached with his hand and swiped a tear on Magnus’ cheek away. "It's just a ring, Mag, it's not like I _made_ something for you, like you did!"

Magnus swallowed heavily again and chuckled awkwardly. They leaned towards each other slowly, that hand still on Magnus’ cheek, Magnus’ hand reaching up to hold the back of Charles’ neck to pull him closer. He sighed happily as they kissed. Charles’ lips were soft, and he tasted sweet, and Charles’ free hand traced the ring on Magnus’ hand.

It was the first Valentine’s Day gift that Magnus ever remembered getting. And even if it wasn’t the first - it was by far the most important.

Could he say it today? Today was for love, and emotions, and all that gay shit, right?

Charles hadn’t stopped kissing him by the time that Magnus decided that no, it wasn’t the right time. He would just ruin a nice day with stupid bullshit.

Charles could put up with bad baking. Charles could put up with random tears. If Magnus were to say “I love you,” Charles would definitely laugh in his face over that. But for right now, Charles kissed him in the quiet of his office, wiping tears from Magnus’ face as they continued to fall unabated. Maybe - just maybe - Magnus could let Valentine’s Day get a pass this year.


End file.
